


To Build Walls High

by rkvian



Series: Honey Whiskey [7]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Calling the Old Man Out trope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, TW Parental Abandonment, for an entirely different reason, richard witt went out to buy a pack of cigarettes and finally came back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkvian/pseuds/rkvian
Summary: Wraith knew a lot about masks and keeping people at a distance so they would never have the power to cut her whenever they wanted to. But there are people in the world we could never cut out without bleeding ourselves.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Honey Whiskey [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811650
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	To Build Walls High

**Author's Note:**

> i'm alive!
> 
> a little heads up: this fic was written before Mirage's father and brothers' names were revealed. i already find/replace my headcanon names but if Thomas, Emmett, Tobias, and Erwan still accidentally slipped in, that's the reason (and i'm sorry)
> 
> this fic was written to Grace Carter's [Heal Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OD6H5SwiQ_8) [(slowed)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKM5DmY4mYg) and Hamzaa's [Hard to Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YURpgEc_zL8)  
> 

Between the two of them, Mirage is the loud mouth.

He talks and talks, sometimes just to fill the air. It’s something they have in common, the disdain for deafening silence. She hates it because it reminded her of Singh’s Lab, and he hated it because it reminded him of what’s left of his family.

It’s why she prefers to spend her down time listening to him tattle about the latest whispers and juicy gossips than stay in her apartment where everything was quiet. Maybe bartending did the same to him, because they had a spectacular lost two days ago and he’s already here sprightly regaling a small crowd with a lavish performance. He’s mixing drinks with his fingers still somewhat shaking in exhaustion, and they’re either oblivious to this or he’s just really great at hiding it.

Hiding, probably, because it wouldn’t be the first time with him and his masks. Spend enough time with the Trickster and it won’t take long to realize this need for incessant chatter was a part of his façade—of the person that desperately needed Mirage so Elliott can exist in a safe space he kept for himself.

“Do it, Witt!”, “Do it!”

Amused cheers rose over Lifeline, Gibraltar, Pathfinder, Octane, and several patrons, and while he’s busy throwing flairs into his work that makes dusts spark and beverages change color from sky blue to sunset, Wraith wondered what other kinds of secrets he keeps if there’s someone out there setting the vibration on her phone with bullshit like

_I have dirt on Mirage that will ruin him_

_Do not test me, it will get out_

_Central Business Hub tomorrow, 3PM_

And an additional message:

_Do not tell Mirage._

* * *

So, naturally, she told Mirage.

“ _You really think whoever they are, they’d just meet you here?_ ” Mirage asked through the communicator. “ _In the open, with this many people?_ ”

“It’s the best place to lose them.”

Wraith let her gaze pass over the bustling horde of people in Solace’s Central Business Hub park. It’s easy to forget how populated the city can be when she’s only ever out at night. Most of them weave through her and the fountain she’s standing in front of, though every so often a person or two would notice and shoot bewildered looks at her. The majority knew better than to approach—she explicitly stated time and again that she did not like getting her picture taken—but once in a while someone with enough guts would walk up and she had to verbally say, “no.”

“ _You know that feelin’ when you didn’t notice you wore your shirt inside out, and you didn’t really know why it feels wrong until someone points it out? It’s like that._ ” The Trickster muttered sullenly, “ _I don’t even know what I did. I mean, I’m pretty sure the Lounge passed the satinationary thing. Sanitary. Clean, whatever. It’s not my nudes, obviously I had those deleted before it even got out. Tax fraud? Larceny? The crime of being so unbelievably beautiful that everyone can’t take it and they just die?_ ”

“Mirage.”

“ _Sorry, sorry._ ” He breathed. “ _I can’t help it okay?_ ”

“It’s alright, just…lower your voice.”

He harrumphed, probably slumping on a hotel couch across from the street behind her. “ _Can I come with you at least?_ ”

“No. Keep out of sight.”

“ _And if something happens?_ ”

“I can handle it.”

“ _I know you can, but I—_ ” He made another noise of discontent. “ _Fine_. _I’ll keep an eye out._ ”

Wraith glanced at her phone. There are no additional instructions, no new messages except for the one about ten minutes ago, simply reading

_I can see you_

She didn’t want to admit it but the longer this was getting drawn out, the more it was starting to grate on her nerves too. _Patience_ , she thought, like lining up your shot and waiting for the perfect opportunity to squeeze the trigger. The memory of Kraber headshots made her anxiously shift on her spot and sweep another look at her surroundings.

There were no clues in front; it was just people and sets of stairs leading to the cluster of boutiques and business establishments. To the right led to the street corner where traffic had congested and the pedestrian lane wasn’t any help. To the left was the same stretch of grey pebbled flooring she was standing on, and Mirage was walking towards her.

Wraith blinked. He was focused on his phone, wearing a dark blue button up and black coat rather than the casual white shirt and brown bomber jacket she saw him in an hour ago.

“What are you doing?”

“ _I’m doing_ e _xactly what you told me to._ ”

“No, I told you to stay out of…”

But then the man looked up, and it wasn’t Mirage.

“ _I did. I’m still where you left me at_.”

It should have been him, by all accounts, the man looked _exactly_ like him. Tall, with the same tanned complexion, his dark hair, nose, the same set of jaw, and even his beard.

“ _Wraith?_ ”

But at the same time, his eyes were different, his cheek bones were not as prominent, and his hair was short, greying and swept back. She’d have doubted who this person could be, until Mirage made sudden movement in her ear.

“ _Oh, you gotta be kidding me._ ”

The Trickster broke off and the man stopped in front of her, meeting her eye to eye in a similar way Bangalore looked at people. Hawkish, sharp, like he was assessing each movement she was making.

“ _Don’t go anywhere with him,_ ” His footsteps echoed through their com, “ _I’m coming over._ ”

She began, “You’re the one blackmailing Mirage?”

“Yes.” He spoke evenly and enunciated each word. “I’m the one contacting you.”

“ _Of course, it’s him, you know? Can’t leave my life to be a bit easier for once?_ ”

“How would I know that?”

He flashed his phone to their conversation thread, and he sent a single dot that made her phone vibrate.

Right. So it _is_ him.

Numerous questions shot to the forefront of her mind and she considered her words, wary about giving away anything. “What do you want?”

“Yeah, dad.” Mirage’s voice came as a pant, and when she glanced at him, he was already coming to a stop next to her. He inhaled to control the adrenaline, and then exhaled harshly. “What _do_ you want?”

The uncharacteristic cold expression on his face startled her more than the confirmation of who man actually was, and for a moment she glanced back and forth between the two of them. _What did he do,_ was the first thought in her head because if there’s anything she trusted, it was Mirage’s judgment. To see him this aggravated when he has always been affectionate to his mother… The only explanation is that this person must have done them wrong. Then her awareness widened a little more, and the crowd that otherwise would have walked around them was now outright staring, watching, with some even beginning to take pictures.

“I think,” Wraith said to the father and son with a small gesture to their audience, “we should take this somewhere else.”

* * *

If he knew this was how his day would go, Mirage wouldn’t have rented the hotel room.

Richard Witt was the first one to walk inside, and his stomach churned at the way the old man scrutinized the bed, the sophisticated décor, the mini kitchen and the set of couches by tinted glass window overlooking the street two floors below. He didn’t miss Wraith’s duffel bag of supplies and his own rucksack, or the pair of champagne glasses the hotel provided for them despite their protests.

He’s going to find a way to use this, isn’t he?

Wraith shifted behind him, “I’ll wait outside.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t.” The old man said, “I won’t be long.”

“Mirage needs the privacy.”

“No, you must be tired too. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your day too much.”

The implication grounded slowly and then clicked, and the Skirmisher shot an affronted look at the old man. She nudged the door behind her and the sound echoed in the room, where the only thing they could hear was the hum of air conditioner. She settled by the window, away from direct view of the old man staying in the mini kitchen.

Silence stretched into a minute and then five, and normally Mirage would’ve offered drinks or seats for the guest but this wasn’t normal times. Sure, he wanted the day to be over, but he wasn’t just going to give him whatever it is he wanted. That isn’t how it works anymore. If he was willing to go to this extent, he needed to show his cards first.

Wraith seemed to be in a similar wavelength, because she asked straight to the point. “Why are you blackmailing him? What did Mirage do you?”

“There is no blackmail.” Richard said, “I needed you so I can talk to my son.”

Wraith’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed but didn’t say anything. 

The sight made him shoot a glare at the old man from across the room. _Manipulate me all you want but not her_ —and he knew saying that would never end well. “Why am I not surprised.” The old man fixed a stern look at him, that, once upon a time, would have made him quiver. “You couldn’t text whatever this is about?”

“Would you have talked to me otherwise? If I never found a way to contact her?”

“Probably not.” He conceded, “So what do you want?”

“I want to see Evelyn.”

“No.” Mirage forced an even breath out his nose. No need to lose his composure. The old man knows how to capitalize on it. “I told you before, no. Whatever you wanna say to her, the answer is no. You wanna see her? No. You wanna talk to her? No. You want money? No.”

“That’s unfair Elliott.” Richard scoffed, by the kitchen counter at the other end of the room. “She’s my wife.”

He let out a disbelieving snort, “She stopped being your wife the moment you chose your mistress over her. Do you remember?” He tilted his head, “Because I do.”

That made Richard’s eyes widen and Mirage was _delighted_. He can see that face turn red, gritting his teeth because it was the truth and he can’t do anything. He would have struck him right now if he could; he would have broken his jaw like he did when he was sixteen and begging but he wasn’t the same scrawny kid anymore.

“If something happened to her...”

“Then ain’t it got nothing to do with you.”

“Why are you like this?” Richard snapped, slamming his palm on the plastic marble counter. “I know I messed up but I’ve been trying to apologize for months and months, and you—”

“And I told you to leave it alone.” He couldn’t help but raise his voice back. “You expect me to forgive ten years in days, just days _not_ months and then I find out—”

“—insist on making it so difficult. You’ve always been a difficult child and that’s why you’re difficult to love. I was right when I told Evelyn to—”

“—still with her after this time. What about Mom, huh? What about what we—what she went through? Meanwhile you expect us to—”

“—dealing with you when we could've had Ricky instead, and he'd—”

“—never even thought of visiting or asking how she's been, and you think you can just come back—”

“—want me to beg? Is that wanted you want Ellie? You want me to get on my knees and beg so I can see my wife?”

“—and then you were w—fuck you!” He didn’t remember charging, only that Wraith had a hand on his arm and was already half blocking his path to the mini kitchen. She whispered his name, and he resisted the urge to shrug her off because it was her, but it was difficult when words were pouring out him on a rage, “I was the one who begged for you to come home when the letters came that Roger, Elon and Ricky went MIA! I told you Mom needed someone else to comfort her. He needed her husband, my dad, but you were too busy getting your dick wet with that homewrecker—”

“Have some _respect_ ” His father roared, “Is that how your mother raised you?”

“No!” He screamed back, “This is how _you_ raised _me_.”

Richard flinched back at the words, choking over half formed words he couldn’t finish.

That, or maybe he couldn’t hear the blabbered responses from the blood in his ears. His chest heaved and body shook in barely contained emotions boiling over and spilling out. Years and years of pain, and his old man’s here actually, finally, talking to him like how he wanted to hear it maybe five years ago when he was lost.

“Did you even try looking for them?”

“I was—“ He swallowed, “I didn’t know at first—”

But it’s too late, and that lack of answer was all he needed to hear.

“We’re done.” He said in a throaty voice, and he hated that his old man still has this kind of effect on him. “Don’t try to contact me, Mom, or Renee ever again.”

He stepped back, leveling one last look at the old man before he turned for his rucksack and Wraith’s duffel bag. He hooked both over his shoulders and glanced at the Skirmisher already beside him.

Before he could leave, Richard spoke again.

“Your brothers would have agreed.”

“No,” After all this time, he still never knew his children enough, “they wouldn’t have.”

“Elliott,” He tried again, and his voice is tired too, “I need to talk to Evelyn.”

The sound of his footsteps echoed.

“Your brother is dying.”

For a split second, his insides jolted and he thought about asking _wait so you found them then? Who? Where?_ Then he realized and it _burned_ , harsh and scorching deep in his chest. It burned the way it did years ago when he first found out about his other family, and it’s still searing until now from renewed anger and—and—

He let out a humorless laugh, looking at the old man again. “So that’s what you’re really here for. It all came out in the end. You needed money for your son—”

“Your brother—”

“No, _your_ son. So he can live.”

There’s no more evidence of the strong military man Richard always presented when a person looked at him. At that moment, he was a desperate father willing to do anything for his child—even beg—because he loves him. A tight ball lodged in his throat and the harder he tried to take a breath, the tighter his chest felt.

"Help me just this once, and I swear I'd never bother you again."

Mirage shook his head. Richard didn’t add anything else, and for once in his life, Elliott got to walk away.

* * *

The old man texted him his son’s details, and if Mirage hated him before, he absolutely loathed him now.

Richard knew if he got to talk to his mom, she would have agreed to help in a heartbeat, because despite being a genius Evelyn Witt has a ridiculously soft heart that’s easy to manipulate. He knows his mom would blame herself if the son died, and he knows Elliott himself would feel responsible if a child that could’ve lived suffered the consequences of his parents being absolute pieces of shit.

It didn’t come as a surprise that the son was in the same hospital as his mother.

* * *

The Eastern District’s buildings flitted by, reflecting sunset against tinted glass windows on sturdier buildings made of concrete. Factories blew dark smoke over the stretch of forest on the other side of their construction, and the road was starting to congest now that it was close to rush hour. The cab didn’t make any effort to go beyond the minimum speed limit.

Wraith sneaked another glance at Mirage next to her, worried, yeah, but unable to come up with any words of comfort that wouldn’t come up empty. _It’s going to be okay_ , no shit? He put up with this for majority of his life it seems like, of course he was going to be okay. She wasn’t in any position to say _he’s an asshole,_ or _he shouldn’t have done that_ because she didn’t know the whole situation. Flaming untamed fire never brought any good.

“Do you wanna go home?”

Her head snapped towards him so fast she was dizzy. “What?”

“I, uh, still have a place to go to. And I’m, well, you don’t have to be there. Think I wasted enough of your time today with my life and you can rest?” He threw a half smile, “If you want. Not that I’m forcing you to leave but like giving you an option. Because, yeah, I still have a place I need to go to.”

Wraith would have, if that’s what he preferred. But she sees the haunted look in his eyes and the set of his jaw, and she knows he's desperately holding himself together, because despite the pomp and bullshit he spouts at people, Mirage has always, _always_ been a private person. He spins wild tales about how he's so cool and perfect, and he definitely dated this one actress you're talking about and that lingerie model over there yeah, but he keeps Elliott Witt and everything that came with it behind lock and key.

She wondered if he’ll ever let her in again if she said yes and left, if he’ll dare to expose this part when she made it seem like she didn’t care about his business. But she does care for him, she has for a very long time, and sometimes she’s scared it’s obvious that it’s a little beyond what friends should be.

“Is it okay if I come with you?” She asked, “You have a thing going on and I promised I have your back too.”

His breath stuttered but he nodded, and if the way he said, “alright,” was soft and heartbreaking, she’d never tell a soul about it.

It didn’t come as a surprise to her that within half an hour they were pulling up into the parking lot of a private hospital and he’s leading her through the corridors in a way that made it obvious he had already been here enough times. If that wasn’t enough proof, the staffs cheerily waved their hands back at him and the mask was in place: he waved back and grinned and joked like the entirety of the day didn’t happen.

“I’m here to pay for, hm, one Kaiden Witt’s bills. Heard he has an important surgery he needed to undergo?”

“Oh, the young man,” the woman behind the counter smiled, “Is he a relative of yours?”

He leaned against the counter ledge and flashed his teeth, “Something like that.”

Wraith turned her head to the rows of chairs in the billing area. Of course he would pay for the child. He wouldn’t be Mirage otherwise if he didn’t care about _family_ and _keeping it together_. Even if it isn't his.

They didn’t leave immediately, and with the way he walked the halls, she knew he still had to make one last visit before leaving. _You did something good_ , she wanted to say, but didn’t know how he’d take the words. It itched that she didn’t know what to do and wished she was a little more like Wattson or Lifeline who seemed to say the best things in these situation.

_Try_ , the Voices whispered, but it was really just herself trying to gather the courage.

“Mirage?”

His neutral expression pinched, as if he anticipated this conversation was coming. “Yeah?”

“You want to talk about it?”

“I…ain’t really got a lot to say.” Mirage began, “He’s an asshole. I knew there was a reason he was trying to apologize. It’s been more than ten years. If he really was sorry, he would’ve said so years ago.” He paused, “Guess a part of me hoped it was going to be different? That he really meant it this time.”

She nodded, “Was it the first time you saw him since then?”

“Yea—no—well, technically yeah.” He rubbed his cheek, “You know I have ears everywhere right? I told you I hear a lot of things with a drink or two?”

“You did.”

“Well, once in a while I get someone to check on him. Just to know he’s still alive, y’know? I mean I hate him but—b-but Mom would be upset if something happened to him, so yeah.” His turned to the other direction, “You know my brothers never found out about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They, uh, hm.” He paused, “Long story short my old man, Richard, he was affiliated with the Militia. We never had a lot of money growing up so my oldest brother—Roger—he joined so mom didn’t have to worry about him going to college. Elon—he’s my second brother, a total ass by the way—joined just because. Then Ricky too, he said so he can help people or something like that. They were all on tours when mom and I found out Richard went AWOL and that's why we didn’t tell them.” Mirage finally glanced at her but quickly looked away. "I—you would've been amazed, I was like this detective that pieced together infor—info to find him, and I did find him."

“With another woman.”

He nodded, “With another woman.” 

She stopped when he gestured to a door.

Wraith has heard a lot of things about Evelyn Witt: famous inventor, amazing cook, the Best Mother. She never expected to meet her here, in a spacious but impersonal white room, with none of the things that made her who she is. Her hair was coiffed messily, her clothing a standard hospital gown mussed from her position on the bed with the blanket tucked at her sides.

Mirage is the loud-mouth, with an aptitude for making light of the situations they find themselves in but that moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even say a single word. She's the one that pulls the door shut behind them.

“You said she was doing okay.”

“She was, and then I found out she collapsed the night before we went against Revenant and Caustic.”

“That's why you were so distracted." She gave him a look, "You could’ve told me.”

“I know.”

Wraith stepped next to him and he shifted close enough that their arms brushed, “Will she be okay?”

“Doc said she fully entered middle stage.” He explained, “Four years before it goes for the worst. And you know it’s never good when they start throwing numbers around.”

“But didn’t Lifeline and Gib mention something about a treatment in the Frontier Corps?” She frowned, “Some kind of funded research making progress? That would work, right?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was bitter, “She doesn't want it.”

“Why?”

“She said,” He smiled and it came out strained but he kept it on his face anyway, “she’d rather spend the last days of her life doing something important to her than live in hospital rooms or nursing homes. I told her I can take care her but she ain’t hearing it." A scoff, "So, that's that.”

The room was quiet in the familiar way all hospitals are, and for once she spoke without overthinking it.

“She’ll pull through.”

“You say that.”

“You’d have to have gotten your tenacity somewhere. Definitely not from your dad.”

"What is this?" He drawled, "Flattery, from Wraith?"

“It is and for the record Mirage, he was wrong.” She waited until he was looking at her, "You're difficult, yes—"

"Ah, my fragile heart—"

“—but you're not difficult to love.”

He froze immediately after she spoke and for several seconds he just stared at her, like it took him too much to believe the words she said. Then he drew himself back, blinked and his eyebrows knitted, and the words _clicked._ He shuddered an exhale, too sudden and too deep that she was scared he gave up breathing all together.

“Thank you. I—you have no idea—” He swallowed thickly, “thank you.”

She reached out to press a hand on his shaking back and he melted against her, stepping fully into the hug she offered. He clenched his fists at the small of her back and pressed his forehead against the nook of her shoulder. This time, he didn't hold back the downpour of emotions. He let himself mourn and weep; at the memory of his brothers who are gone, at his father who abandoned them, at his mother slowly wasting away in front of his eyes. She held on just as tight, because she understood the exhaustion it took to hold himself together. She knew a lot about masks and keeping people at a distance so they would never have the power to cut her whenever they wanted to. But there are people in the world we could never cut out our lives without bleeding ourselves.

When she let go, he kept his face turned away and never said a word. Both of them sat on the visitor chairs lost to their thoughts.

"Elliott?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you know that..." She paused, "stop signs used to be yellow?"

"What?" Mirage's voice rose past the huskiness of his exhaustion, in the kind of tone that she knew he was going to use on her later.

She closed her eyes briefly from the embarrassment but continued anyway, "It's the paint. Red faded quick, so they made it yellow."

He was staring at her when she opened her eyes, and she knew he understood.

Wraith thinks it’s her turn to fill this silence now, so in between the time they waited to see if Evelyn would wake up during their visit, she starts telling him so many stories. At first, just anything she could think of, and then about her, about the people she’s encountered, and about the places she still wanted to see.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)♡
> 
> this fic is a bit personal to me. it's inspired irl by a father mistaking his second child with his oldest and getting their names mixed up after not meeting for so long—i think as a deadbeat dad that's the least he can do lmfao—and he still acted like he didn't do anything wrong. that didn't appear anywhere in the fic, but the sentiment behind it, yeah? 
> 
> also, deadbeat dad was my default Miraith Soulmate AU headcanon for the angst but i didn't except Richard Witt to be like that in canon. i was hoping he'd be Pathfinder's creator or a Militia man, oh well. on the bright side knowing Respawn, we're probably gonna hear from him wayy in the future, which is exciting :D


End file.
